Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  And, he was a complete asshole to Stella. Everyone except her apparently saw that, and none of us understood why she was still with the guy.

  “If you let me in, I promise you’ll enjoy what I have to say,” I said.

  “You’re giving me the company?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Then, I won’t enjoy what you have to say. Have a good day, Christian.”

  “I want to hire you at the company,” I said.

  She studied me with her eyes for a while from behind her doorframe. I could tell I had caught her attention; I just wasn’t sure how much. She stopped the door just shy of shutting it in my face, but I knew I was two ticks away from having it slammed on me altogether.

  “For the love of everything, Stella, grow up and let your stepbrother in,” I said. “I’m the only one who even slightly understands what you’re experiencing. Stop shoving me away because you’re pissed.”

  She huffed before she shook her head, but she turned away from the door without shutting it. I slipped in and took in the darkness of her home, allowing my eyes to adjust before I closed the door. I watched the tail end of her robe flutter down the hallway while I followed her toward the kitchen, and she began slamming mugs and ceramic containers around before she slid everything onto the table.

  “You can make your own damn coffee,” she said.

  “Never been one for people to hand me things,” I said.

  “Until now.”

  “Stella, I feel terrible about your father handing me this company. It’s thrust me into a position I’m unfamiliar with, and it’s brought a great deal of heartache to your life. I had no idea he was going to do that to you, to us, and I’m sorry,” I said.

  I sat down across the table from her and really got a chance to study her. The bags underneath her eyes were heavy, and the redness around her irises told me she’d been crying. Her nose was puffy, and her cheeks were sunken in, and my heart broke as I looked at my stepsister. She was struggling with a lot of pain right now, and part of me wanted to take that away from her.

  I wanted her to be alright.

  “I need you to understand that if I wanted to do this on my own, I could. I’ve already been talking with the accountant about finances and making sure the company doesn’t have debt. I’ve checked on the projects your father had in motion to make sure they’re still coming along, and I’ve even had some plans drawn up to take the storage above the store and turn it into office space,” I said.

  “Oh, goody,” she said as she brought her mug of coffee to her lips.

  “But, you’re right,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Say that one more time,” she said.

  “You. Are. Right. Stella, you are right,” I said. “I don’t have the kind of knowledge you do. I haven’t been groomed all my life for this. Much of this is very new to me, though many companies operate on the same basic premise. But, it takes more than a premise to run a niche supply store like your father has built, and I need your help.”

  “The great Christian Gunn doesn’t need anything,” she said.

  “I need you,” I said. “I need that knowledge, that intimate intelligence you possess for this company. Yes, I could make this company great, but you can make it spectacular.”

  “You heard the letter. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company. Some bullshit about honoring him not being good enough or whatever,” she said.

  “He just didn’t want you keeping the company in the past. He probably handed it over to me to give the company a fresh outlook. Your father understood things were changing drastically with the coming generations, and this was probably his way of admitting that.”

  “By giving you the company,” she said.

  “Have you ever known your father to be overt in anything he did?” I asked.

  “Holy fuck, it was so frustrating having to decipher him,” she said. “Remember that damn scavenger hunt for my 12th birthday?”

  “I came stumbling down the stairs around lunchtime, and you were fuming on the couch,” I said, chuckling.

  “I was so pissed off because I couldn’t figure out why he was making me work so hard on my birthday. I didn’t understand the riddles, and all I wanted to do was find my present and then go play with it.”

  “Or all those times he gave that cryptic advice?” I asked. “I remember I asked him for girl advice one time. I wanted to ask out Christie, this girl at our school.”

  “Misty Christie? The one that cried every single day for a year?” she asked.

  “Yep. That girl had a rack on her, even for high school,” I said.

  “Ew. Gross. And you asked Dad for advice?” she asked.

  “Yep. You want to know what he told me? After I said I wanted to take her out and get to know her?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “He said, ‘To do two things at once is to do neither.’”

  “He fucking said what?” she asked, giggling.

  “Why the hell couldn’t he just tell me that focusing too much on a date meant I couldn't focus enough on her? Why was that so hard for him?” I asked, laughing.

  “Holy shit, that man was insufferable with his cryptic wisdom,” she said.

  “So, why would we think he’s doing anything less here?” I asked.

  That question silenced the laughter peeling from Stella’s lips. I watched her contemplate what I asked while she sipped her coffee, and I took the time to make myself a mug while she mulled it over. The two of us had been put in an impossible position — one that would shake the foundation of even the strongest relationships. But Stella and me? We had a terrible foundational relationship.

  It was going to take a lot of work to get this ship out to sea, but I was willing to do it if she was.

  “What is my father doing here?” she asked.

  “I honestly don’t know, but if you take a job with the company, we could figure it out,” I said.

  “And what role do you see me filling, Christian?” she asked.

  “How does senior VP sound?”

  “You want me to be the Vice President of Harte To Heart? The company has never had a VP,” she said.

  “It does now, if you accept,” I said.

  “What the hell would I be doing?” she asked.

  “Running the company with me. I could run the front end — patient treatment, customer acquisition, finances, and future projections and plans. You could run the back end — product, creative ideas, management of all the warehouses that make our product, possible shipping nationally and internationally if we implement some of my ideas. It could work. We could splice the work your father was doing by himself, focus the company a bit more, and continue to help the community.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “More money for the company means more money for the charities your father donated to. If we could garner a patent as well as retain the licensing for one or two of his incredible projects he already had in the works, we could sell them right here out of the store. No one could find them anywhere else but here. That would put us on the books nationally, possibly internationally, and it would bring in more money for the company,” I said.

  “And more money means more good works in his honor,” she said.

  “Yes. You could honor your father the way you wanted, and I could focus on drawing in new clientele, negotiating new contracts, and modernizing the way the company is seen in the community.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Sorry for what?” I asked.

  “For not staying for the reading of your mother’s letter. That woman meant a great deal to me.” Stella opened her mouth to say more but couldn’t.

  I reached over and grabbed her hand when I heard her voice crack. This young lady I had grown up alongside my entire life was slowly falling apart in front of my eyes, and I wanted to help her. I wanted to give her something to latch onto, a life vest to keep
her afloat, so I wouldn’t lose her like I’d just lost my own mother.

  Like I’d just lost the only father I ever knew.

  “Let me help you, Stella. Just this once. Take the job,” I said.

  “We haven’t even negotiated payment,” she said, sniffling.

  “How about $160,000 a year plus benefits. Four weeks paid vacation, two weeks unpaid sick leave,” I said.

  “Holy shit,” she said breathlessly.

  “Take the job, Stella. Let’s give into whatever the hell it is your father’s trying to manipulate from his grave.”

  “Our father,” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Our father. He was just as much your father as he was mine. I never should’ve said that to you in that restaurant, Christian. I’m so sorry.”

  “You know how you can show me you’re sorry?” I asked.

  “How?” she asked.

  “Take the damn job.”

  She smiled, releasing my hand before she picked up her coffee mug. Her eyes crinkled, sparkling with just a hint of the little girl I’d grown up with all my life. For the first time since I’d seen her in that hospital, it looked like a breath of life had filled her body.

  “See you Friday?” she asked.

  “See you then,” I said.

  Chapter Eight

  Stella

  I heard the door knocking and dropped what I was doing to go get it. I was looking through the book I’d found at my father’s house and was transcribing his drawings, ideas, and notes into a cohesive notebook for tomorrow. I still didn’t like the idea of Christian running the company, and I wasn’t sure if he would know how to splice up the front and back end of the business like he had said.

  But, I also knew the moment I could get a foothold in the company and imprint upon it, I’d feel more at ease about this entire problem I had encountered with my father’s will.

  I opened the door and saw my beautiful best friend standing there, her smile broad and shining in the middle of the day.

  “What are you doing here, Daisy?” I asked as I threw my arms around her neck. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  “Took a sick day. Figured my best friend could use a bit of sunshine in her life. I’m impressed you’re actually showered and clothed,” she said.

  “It’s been a hell of a past couple of days,” I said.

  “Well, you can tell me while we go out. I can tell by the color of your skin that the sun hasn’t seen you in days. Come on,” she said.

  “Let me get my purse.”

  “Nope. Today’s on me. Get out this door now,” she said.

  We took her car and drove into town, where we parked in front of our favorite nail salon. I could already feel the relaxation coursing through my veins at the idea of a decent leg and arm massage. Wine and Dine was the newest addition to the salon and spa services around the area, and what they offered was hard to refuse. If you purchased enough services, you got a complimentary glass of wine as well as a snack plate.

  And my stomach was starting to roar to life.

  “So, tell me about these interesting couple of days,” Daisy said as we soaked our feet.

  “Christian came by the house yesterday,” I said.

  “Please don’t tell me you bit that poor boy’s head off again,” she said. “You reamed him in that restaurant.”

  “No. I apologized for a couple of the things I said.”

  “Wait a second. Stella Harte apologized to someone?” she asked.

  “Don’t be a bitch. He came by to offer me a job in the company,” I said.

  “He did what?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Senior vice president of the entire thing.”

  “Well, that’s good, right? That’s practically owning the thing like you wanted in the first place,” she said.

  “Not particularly. He’s going to have me running the back end of things. You know, control of the warehouses, creative ideas, running around with the patents, licensing operations, things like that,” I said.

  “So, what’s wrong with that?” she asked.

  “It’s only half the company. Christian’s still got control of the most important part.”

  “Come on, Stella. He just handed you half the company.”

  “And the entire thing is supposed to be mine,” I said.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable?”

  “Not in the slightest. He’s still in control of finances, payroll, negotiating contracts, and all that stuff that puts my father’s business on the map. He’s still the face of things,” I said.

  “And why does that bother you?” she asked.

  “Because Christian admitted to me again that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He told me he wanted to hire me because I was prepped for this job, and he wasn’t. He hired me because he’s desperate, and I’m not running that company for him while he gets all the glory,” I said.

  “So, that's all this is to you? Glory?” she asked.

  “No. Fuck, do you even know me at all, Daisy?” I asked. “This isn’t about glory. Not by a long shot. Though, it probably is for Christian. I get the sense he’s doing this because of something his mom said to him in her letter.”

  “What did his mom say to him?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. But, I get the sense that it’s fueling this little desire of his. But, we all know what happens to Christian’s desires,” I said.

  “What happens to them?”

  “They fizzle out and crash into the ground. I’m not allowing that to happen to my father’s company,” I said.

  “Look, just be careful, alright? Christian’s an intelligent man. Much more intelligent than you give him credit for. Don’t think he doesn’t understand you’re still feeling this way,” she said.

  “Well, I’m intelligent as well. I can sidestep this, position myself well in the company, and then have the paperwork ready for when I can usurp him.”

  “It’s mutiny, I tell you. Mutiny!” Daisy exclaimed playfully.

  “Ugh, this massage feels so good,” I said, groaning.

  “So, when do you start this job?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. And I’m not looking forward to it. I’ll have to play as nice as I can while letting him implement whatever idiotic ideas he has,” I said.

  “Well, you said it yourself. Get in there, make an impression, and then do what you feel you have to do. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get in there, realize you’re some sort of weird power couple, and things will blossom like you didn’t expect.”

  “Whatever. I’ll feel better when I get there tomorrow and verify it hasn’t burned down yet,” I said.

  “No faith. You have no faith in him whatsoever,” she said, giggling.

  “Shhh, massage time,” I whispered.

  After our pampering, we let our nails dry while we sipped our wine. I talked with her about the book I found at my father’s house and how it seemed to be some sort of muse for him. I talked to her about all the dimensions and diagrams that were scattered throughout its pages, and she asked me a question that I thought was very interesting.

  “Why do you think that book was his muse?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I assume that’s what it is. If my father was just having ideas left and right, surely he would’ve just put them in a notebook. But, they’re all in the margins of that book,” I said.

  “What’s the book called?” she asked.

  “The FDA And Worldwide Quality System Requirements Guidebook for Medical Devices.”

  “How absolutely thrilling,” Daisy said mockingly.

  “The only thing I can think is that he was wanting to keep himself updated on basic information as he was creating products. He wrote them in the book so he could keep his ideas on the same page as the guidelines he was abiding by,” I said.

  “Sounds fair enough. I was hoping for something more exotic, though.”

  “You always do, Daisy. It’s why you date exotic men,” I said
, smirking.

  “Speaking of men we date, how’s the dickwad?”

  “Daisy,” I said, sighing.

  “Everyone hates Greyson, Stella. Why are you still dating him?” she asked.

  “Because he’s a good man. Yes, he’s a pompous ass at times, but look at who you’re talking to.”

  “You deserve better,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you more than he has during your time of grieving.”

  “Not true. I saw him a couple days ago for lunch,” I said.

  “Uh huh. And how did that go?” she asked.

  “Just fine,” I lied.

  “Alright. Well, he’s still an asshole you need to dump. You deserve love and romance and passion. Not some pompous, arrogant man-child who has to always assert his intelligence just to stroke his own ego,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, he strokes my ego, too,” I said, grinning.

  “Ew, no thanks. So, what will you wear for your first day of work tomorrow?”

  “Probably just a pair of my black high-waisted pants and one of my new work blouses I plan on buying while we’re out. Nothing special,” I said, shrugging.

  “Not looking to impress any of your dad’s employees?” she asked.

  “My father built a medical supplies business, not a Chippendale’s,” I said.

  “Alright. Alright. Just thought I’d ask,” she said.

  “I’ll call you and let you know how it goes?” I asked before I plucked a grape from my plate.

  “You better,” she said. “I want to hear all the juicy details.”

  “Oh, I know. The risqué business of medical supplies. I’ll get you all the juicy gossip tomorrow,” I said.

  “I’ll bring the wine if you order the pizza,” she said.

  “Deal.”

  “Oh! You never told me what Christian offered you for the job,” she said.

  “I told you: running the back end of things,” I said.

  “No, no, no. Payment, sweetheart. What’s he paying you?” she asked.

  “Oh. 160K a year plus benefits. Four weeks paid vacation, two weeks unpaid sick leave,” I said.

  “Holy shit, I hate you,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter, though. I should have the entire company,” I said.